Her crooked spine is clad in feathers. A monstrous skulking bird of prey That lurches over trembling girls, The creature's fresh meat of the day. And as the girls dream desperately Of runway shows and designer clothes, Lilac Laverne's shadow stays close, Ever creeping, ever sneering down a beaky nose. Between reams of silk and velvet The grand designer peers and stalks, Seeking out the youngest interns, For something deadlier than planning catwalks. The older workers never laugh nor smile, As is the custom in the fashion industry. How could the interns know the truth, The truth they'd soon come to see? Lilac Laverne was a creature of menace Who emerged from the gloom like a troll When a poor girl was sent to her office, Shivering, shy, and afraid for her soul. Because that's what Laverne likes best, The younger, the fresher, the better, For the bitch ate the poor girl's souls, And sent them shuffling back with a letter.
A poem about a woman with a bony back and long fingers.